Hearts Like Ours
by rroselavy
Summary: On the third anniversary of a national tragedy that touched both Jounouchi Katsuya and Kaiba Seto personally, both men find themselves face to face with the demons and desires of their past.


Title: Hearts Like Ours (1/1)

Author: Rroselavy

Rating: R

Pairing: KaibaxJou, YugixAnzu

Beta(s): Akuchan (my rock and my salvation) and Jennie B. (pinch-hitting in the bottom of the ninth, and swinging for the fences)

Spoilers: Slight Battle City and Ancient Egypt spoilers (if you blink you'll miss them).

Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from Yu-Gi-Oh! That is the property the wonderful Kazuki Takahashi. Nor do I own or profit from the lyrics or music to the song "My Life Is Wrong." That was authored by the incredibly talented FM Cornog, recorded as East River Pipe, and can be found on the album _Shining Hours in a Can._

Summary: On the third anniversary of a national tragedy that touched both Jounouchi Katsuya and Kaiba Seto personally, both men find themselves face to face with the demons and desires of their past.

God knows I've tried to live  
But this is all there is  
The power to forgive  
Is that we can hope for now

You were a meteor  
You were a dinosaur  
You were the two by four  
That cracked me in my head last night

Let me wake up right  
'cause I know my life is wrong  
Let me wake up right  
I know my life is wrong  
You told me so

"Jounouchi," he said flatly into his cell phone mouthpiece.

"Kaiba." The word was spit out as if it were poison.

He maintained an even breath, refusing to take the bait. "You do know what day it is?"

"Uh huh."

"What time are you going?" he asked after several moments of dead silence.

"Dunno. Hadn't really given it much thought." The voice was muffled, as if Jounouchi had cradled the phone against his chest.

'Liar.' Through the phone he heard the distinct flare of a match being lit and then a deep inhale as the other took a drag of his cigarette.

"Those things will kill you," he said, immediately regretting his offhand comment.

A long exhale followed. "Yeah, well, clean livin's overrated." Kaiba imagined Jounouchi tucking the phone under his chin and running his fingers through his unruly mop of blond hair. Perhaps he was pacing the floor, confined by the radius of the phone wire, smoke from his cigarette curling around him. "I guess around three," the other finally answered. "I'm sure you'll be there at your usual time," he snorted.

"Six."

"I'll be history by then." _Click_.

He hated making that call every year, and he tried hard not to think about the lifetime of phone calls just like that one that lay ahead of them.

Maybe someday they would become unnecessary, Kaiba thought as he poured himself a single malt scotch, neat. Maybe someday Jounouchi would stop hating him. He tossed back the amber liquid and poured himself another. Yeah, and maybe someday hell would freeze over. There was more of a chance of that happening than of Jounouchi Katsuya ever forgiving Kaiba Seto for his sister's murder.

Kaiba closed up his cell and stared out of the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse apartment, taking in the panoramic view of Domino City. He pointedly avoided glancing in the direction of what used to be the Kaiba Corp building, but couldn't stave off the aching of his heart as he struggled not to think of all the circumstances that had caused it to become the international headquarters of Black Crown. He was making the best of the hand he'd been dealt, he thought stubbornly, and unloading the company that bore his hated adoptive father's name had been one small step in the healing process.

His cell vibrated on the table that he'd discarded it to, and for a second he wondered if it might be Jounouchi, calling him back to acknowledge his own loss.

"Kaiba."

"Are you okay?" The voice was a deep tenor; much like the one that Yugi'd affected when he'd been 'possessed' by the dark spirit that he'd purported was Kaiba's cousin. Over the years, Seto had come to terms with his archrival, and a friendship had developed between the two former enemies.

"What do you think?" He heard Yugi sigh, and gulped down the second scotch, a warm fire burning in his belly.

"Do you want some company when you go?" the other's voice was full of concern. Did he really hate this diminutive man once upon a time? A lifetime ago, Kaiba knew that he had despised Yugi's gentle soul; he'd imagined that the other duelist's compassion was nothing but a fatal weakness to be exploited. And he had used it against Yugi, on more than one occasion.

"No, I prefer to be alone when I go there."

"Did you talk to him, to Jou-?"

Kaiba grunted. "He's still the same. You should call him, he needs you."

"He doesn't want me." Kaiba heard a telltale tremor in the other's voice.

"But he needs you. He needs all of his friends."

"The last time we spoke, he told me that he no longer considers me-"

"That was the alcohol talking, and you know it."

There was a long pause before Yugi spoke again. "Honda said that he'd make sure that Jou-kun wasn't alone tonight," he offered. "Besides, since you and I have become close ..." the smaller man's voice trailed off.

"Whatever," Kaiba said, willing all emotion from his voice. He glanced at the time; six hours of waiting and avoiding the desire to turn on the TV and wallow in the memories of what had happened that day. As if he could ever forget. It was enough that he'd dragged himself out to all the public commemorations and remembrances; trotted out duly, as an example of soldiering on, a beacon for all the others who'd lost friends and family in the great tragedy. He poured himself another scotch, promising that it would be his last until he was ready to turn in for the evening.

"I know you miss Mokuba," Yugi said softly, breaking the strained silence. "Seto, I'm so sorry for your loss."

He felt the tears he'd sworn he wouldn't shed this year prick at the corners of his eyes and blur his vision. "I know, and I know that you miss him too," his voice was low and thick with unwanted emotion. After a few seconds, he mumbled, "thanks, Yugi."

"I'll see you tonight, at Toro-Nagashi. But ... if you need to talk, or just want to be with someone, call me, okay?"

He nodded, and then realizing that Yugi couldn't see his gesture, added in a choked voice, "Of course."

"Bye, Seto."

"Bye." Kaiba hung up the phone, closed his eyes, and slowly sipped his scotch, willing the hours to pass by quickly so that he could put this awful day behind him.

Jounouchi Katsuya stared vacantly at the TV set, ignoring the incessant ringing of his telephone. There wasn't anyone that he wanted to speak to, or anyone who could cut through the pain that seared his heart and crushed his chest until he felt as if he were drowning. He chugged a beer and then summarily dropped the bottle at his feet before reaching for another, the irony not lost on him that his actions mimicked those of his father's; behavior that he'd witnessed day after day for years on end.

"The apple don't fall far from the tree," he commented to no one in particular.

Today was no different from any of the others in the week that had preceded it. It was filled with ceremonies honoring the victims, their families and the first responders to the disaster; and all the pomp and circumstance that surrounded the dignitaries that had lined up to support and rebuild the Japanese economy afterwards. Naturally, that had meant that he'd been all over the news, along with the endless rerunning loop of the scenes from that fateful day, replete with the recounting of poignant stories of survival and loss, including that of Kaiba Mokuba and his 'girlfriend,' and today was proving to be no exception.

For the past few days, as he had last year, Jounouchi had half-heartedly followed the Buddhist ritual. Two days ago, on Unkeh, he'd set up a small altar in his modest apartment for Shizuka, and yesterday, Nakabi, he'd prepared three meager meals for her, as was the custom. He hadn't needed to visit her tomb for the annual cleaning; Kaiba had hired a staff to make sure the site was always immaculate.

Later today, on Ukui, the final day of Obon, he would light the lanterns at her grave, and then tonight before bed, he would burn the ritual money and incense to ensure her safe return home the following year.

Jounouchi's mind drifted to thoughts of the younger Kaiba sibling. He'd loved Mokuba like a brother--he was nothing like the stuck-up rich boy that was Kaiba Seto, who'd never had a kind word for anyone. The fact that in the aftermath Kaiba had become downright civil towards Katsuya, and had bent over backwards to help both the Jounouchi and Kawai families, had only served to fan the flames of Katsuya's anger.

"Stupid prick," Jounouchi seethed as the announcer droned on and on about the loss of the best and the brightest Japan had to offer, and how the tragedy that had affected so many would forever be entwined with the summer festival that honored the dead. Except that it was ancestors who were supposed to be honored during Obon, not sons and daughters, and sisters and brothers, all lives extinguished in the blink of an eye.

Now a slideshow of stills from Hiroshima and Nagasaki after the US bombings, accompanied by appropriately solemn music, flickered on the TV set, and suddenly, with the change of subject to those older tragedies, Jounouchi could breathe again, though he felt vaguely guilty that it was at the expense of others who'd suffered in equal, if not greater atrocities. The cut to commercials was a jarring dose of reality, and then a teaser about all the good works that Kaiba Seto was initiating once again had the blond growling at the tube.

"Bastard!" he choked out and then hurled a string of epithets at the screen before following them up with his now-empty beer bottle. It shattered against the screen, but Jounouchi found that equal and opposite reaction to be unsatisfactory; the bottle had merely caused a hairline crack.

As the announcer continued to lavish praise on Jounouchi's old rival for all the philanthropic organizations and heavy hitters that he'd coaxed into donating money for the victims' memorial (this besides the massive fortune that Kaiba had set aside to seed the foundation that would be in charge of funneling aid to those affected by the tragedy), Jounouchi found his mood becoming blacker and blacker. He chugged two more beers in quick succession, each empty flung at the screen with increasing violence. The first one caromed around the small living room, nearly beaning the blond, but the second one managed to hit exactly along the fault line created earlier. The old tube imploded with a satisfying 'pop,' and for a few moments Jounouchi was left in blissful silence, the image of Kaiba Seto, still as striking as ever, no longer taunting him from beyond the glass.

Then the phone rang again. Jounouchi picked up the receiver, and pressed the hang-up nubs before leaving it off the hook.

"Your hands are still covered with my sister's blood, an' you'll never wipe them clean, no matter how hard you try," he muttered, unsure now whether he was talking about his nemesis or himself.

August 11th, 2002 was a glorious mid-summer day in Domino City. The cloudless azure skies were a welcome relief from the five days of monsoon-like rains that had preceded it, and it seemed that the entire population was intent on spending as much of the day outside, enjoying the fair weather. Being just two days before Obon, many people across Japan had chosen to take that week as vacation, mixing leisure with the filial duties of returning to their hometowns for the Buddhist festival.

Jounouchi's sister, Kawai Shizuka, and their mother had returned to the city for their annual holiday, and the siblings had wasted no time in catching up on the past events of the year. Katsuya had been surprised at Shi-chan's revelation that she and Kaiba Mokuba had been in regular contact throughout their freshman year of college, and that she was planning on spending the day with the raven-haired teen and heir to the Kaiba fortune, instead of her big brother. He did a good job of hiding his disappointment, though.

"Onii-chan, it's not an official 'date' date, Mokuba just wants to give me a personal tour of the new Kaibaland. Do you know how awesome that is?"

"Yeah, well jus' as long as he doesn't get too personal, if you know what I mean." Katsuya crossed his arms over his chest, trying vainly to affect the attitude of an overly protective older brother. Well, he was all that, but the fact was, he couldn't think of anyone else he'd prefer to see his beloved sister dating. Certainly not Honda, who'd been summarily crossed off of that short list when he'd made the mistake of telling his best friend about all of his sexual conquests, nor Ryuuji Otogi, whose humiliation of Jounouchi when they'd first met had forever tainted the blond's opinion of his green-eyed friend. Jounouchi had long ago forgiven Otogi for his mean prank, but Katsuya knew better than most that forgiving didn't necessarily mean forgetting.

"Mokie's not like that, he's always the perfect gentleman."

"Oh, so now it's Mokie," Jounouchi teased, smiling broadly when a telltale blush graced his sibling's cheeks. He hugged her tightly then.

"Seto-sama did a wonderful job raising him, just like you did me," her words were muffled against his chest. He felt tears prick at his eyes.

"Ah-ah-CHOO!" he feigned, releasing her and rubbing the offending droplets away. "Is that perfume I smell? I think I'm allergic to it, or somethin'," he flashed a lopsided grin at her. "Jus' tell Mokie if he lays a hand on ya, he'll have me ta answer to."

She looked up into her brother's honey-colored eyes and wiped a stray tear from his cheek. "Or something," she echoed. "Don't worry brother, you'll always be my number one," she added, her brow knitted.

"Hah, I know that! I'm irreplaceable, and so are you!"

The conversation in the Kaiba household that day had had more serious undertones. For months Mokuba had been pushing against his older sibling's overbearing rules, trying to coax Seto into a relationship that more closely resembled brothers than the parent-child one Kaiba had assumed over him after their parents had died.

"You can't actually be serious about her."

"Why not? She's intelligent, beautiful, caring-"

"She's his sister. That mutt and I will never be family."

"Seto, we're just hanging out," Mokuba snorted. "And if I did want to marry her someday ... it wouldn't be the worst thing for you be civil to Jounouchi, y'know."

"Oh please Mokuba. They are so ben-"

"Don't go there, nii-sama, that is so unfair! No one can help the life they're born into, and they've both done well for themselves, despite their parents. Just as we have."

When he saw his brother's lips form a frown, Mokuba realized his mistake almost immediately. He wrapped his arms around Seto's waist, as he'd often done as a child, though now he was just as tall as his brother. "Seto, don't blame yourself for Gozaburo, you couldn't have known," he whispered into the other's ear, softly reassuring.

Seto stiffened for a moment before burying his face in Mokuba's unruly locks. "It's just ..."

Mokuba squeezed him tightly. "You're never going to lose me, nii-sama, but you have to let me go, just a little bit, or you'll suffocate me," he chided gently. He felt his brother's head drop against his shoulder and Mokuba worried his lip. "Seto, you need to get out, too."

Kaiba shook his head at the audacity of his brother's statement. "And what, date? Go nightclubbing with some so-called 'friends?' There's no one but money- and fame-hungry sycophants waiting in line for a shot at me. You're all I have."

Mokuba sighed. "But you need more than me, and if you'd just open your eyes, you'd see that there are honest people out there who respect you despite your power and bank account balance. For instance, Yu-"

Kaiba pulled away abruptly, he was tired of Mokuba's insistence that he get a life, it only reminded him of the utter hopelessness of his infatuation with a certain blond. "I'm fine, Mokuba. I just didn't get a good night's sleep." He rubbed his temple against the dull pain that was building up, pasted a smile on his face, and even though his words sounded hollow, he said what he knew Mokuba wanted to hear. "You have a good time with Shizuka, and tonight you can tell me all about it."

His brother hugged him tightly once more before letting go. "I love you, nii-sama," he said cheerfully, "that will never change."

"I love you too, Mokuba," Kaiba replied to his brother's receding back.

Kaibaland Domino City had been enjoying an incredible inaugural season; immense crowds regularly thronged the amusement park, but the rides and attractions were so well managed that many patrons returned again and again, amazed at how quickly lines moved, and at how well the park accommodated visitors. Despite the pall that had enveloped the world post-9/11, and despite the recent deployment of peacekeeping troops to assist the US in Afghanistan (the first international deployment by the Japanese military since World War II), many Japanese citizens felt immune to the terrorism that had rained down upon the west. The people were confident in their government's abilities to protect them; that confidence bolstered by the quick resolution to the homegrown terrorist attacks that had plagued the nation in the decade before the millennium.

Kaiba Seto though, had ordered put into place the best security available. While there had been no direct threats to his company, he'd been made aware of some vague conspiracies that intelligence had picked up. Kaiba, being sensitive to the history of Kaiba Corp as a war-mongering business prior to his taking of the reins, had determined that no rumor, no matter how outlandish or vague would be ignored.

But in the end, none of his security precautions had mattered; a suicide squad of terrorists managed to sneak past the elite guards and hi-tech system, and infiltrate the theme park. At 1:11 pm precisely, a series of explosions leveled most of the massive amusement park, instantly killing thousands and injuring countless others.

The detonations shook the city like an earthquake, but the real shockwaves reverberated in the form of instant messages and emails that were flashing through the ether, even as the first responders were arriving at the scene of carnage. It didn't take the news very long at all to get to Kaiba, an IM in the middle of his working lunch had turned his world upside down and inside out.

'There have been some explosions reported at Kaibaland.'

Soon phone lines all around him were ringing off the hook, and he made his way to the nearest conference room and turned on the TV, only to be greeted with gruesome image after gruesome image; raw footage of a tragedy still unfolding.

He didn't remember how long he stood there watching impotently, knowing, but unable to voice his worst nightmare. Kaiba had never been a superstitious man, but somehow that day he clung to the belief that if he didn't mention that Mokuba had planned to spend the day there, that somehow his younger sibling would have escaped, and was at that very moment somewhere else watching the events unfold. All through the day, he tirelessly fielded calls and barked commands to his officers, offering full cooperation to the Japanese government in the embryonic stages of an investigation that was begun before all the survivors had even been rescued.

Both Mokuba's and Shizuka's bodies had been found together, three days later.

At that point, Kaiba had been up for nearly 96 hours, and had already accepted that his cherished brother was dead. If Mokuba had been alive, Kaiba knew that he would have sensed the connection in his soul, but all the life that he'd ever felt had simply been drained from him while he had watched and waited for word of his brother. He'd been left behind as a mere husk, hollow, and empty of all emotion.

Jounouchi, through it all, had stubbornly clung to the notion that no news was good news, right up until the moment that he'd identified Shizuka's body through a necklace that he'd given to her when they were kids, a cheap trinket that had survived the horror in which his precious sister had perished. As he stood outside the makeshift morgue that he and Kaiba had arrived at, coincidently at the same time, clutching the pendant to his heart, Jounouchi had glared at the tall brunet, his eyes brimming with hatred.

"I will never forgive you for this, you sonofabitch! You should have known this would happen, the way you treat people!"

Stunned at Jounouchi's vitriol, Kaiba reasoned that it was only the blond's grief lashing out, and that eventually he would come around.

Several months later, Kaiba Corporation had been absolved of all negligence and fault in the terror attack, the Japanese government's investigation, along with findings from several independent consultancies simply confirming what Kaiba himself had learned through his own tireless research; there was no reasonable way the company could have prevented the catastrophe, short of not existing. The terrorists, a previously unknown splinter group with ties to Al Queda, had targeted Kaibaland to punish the Kaiba Corp parent company for its prior existence as a munitions manufacturer, and to serve as a warning that Japan should retreat from its support position in Afghanistan.

The country still reeled from the tragedy, but the Kaiba name had been left untarnished, and in the public's eyes, Kaiba Seto became a symbol of strength and resilience in the face tremendous loss. As he grew into a new role, one of advocacy for the many nameless victims and their families, wielding his political clout as capital to ensure that they not be forgotten and swept away in the tide of history. It occurred to him that he'd been forgiven the sins of his youth simply because he'd suffered the loss of his closest, only relative. In short, he'd been redeemed from the arrogant, brilliant brat, to a man of great character and fortitude. None of that meant anything to Kaiba, though, and every night he would fall into bed exhausted, because as long as he was busy, he could ignore the gaping hole in the center of his life.

Jounouchi rode his bicycle to the cemetery, the items he needed for the ritual perched precariously on the handlebars. He'd voluntarily given up driving a car; it was easier to tell how drunk one was when trying to balance on two wheels. There had been more than a few times that he'd ended up sleeping on a park bench; too drunk to steer himself home.

He was running late, as was his habit, it was after four, and he knew that he had to be out of the cemetery by six, not because that was the time that Kaiba was due, but because he was opening the bar that he worked at tonight. Though his boss had argued that the blond should have the night off so that he could participate in Toro-Nagashi, but Jounouchi had insisted that he work his regular shift.

Shizuka and Mokuba's shrines were set atop a hill-the highest point in the cemetery-amid a placid Zen garden. Jounouchi walked the bike along the wending path that lead up the gentle slope, taking in all the other grave sites and shrines that had been adorned with lanterns and treats for the holiday. He didn't really believe in the custom of Obon-that Shizuka needed him to light lanterns and leave her sustenance on her journey to find her way home-but he knew that he would feel more guilty than he already did if he didn't participate in the farce. Besides, there was no one else who would do it for her; not their father, who'd long ago abdicated all parental responsibilities in favor of his favorite watering holes and gambling halls, nor Shizuka's mother (Jounouchi refused to call her his mother, not after she'd abandoned him), who'd emigrated to the US shortly after her daughter's death.

As he approached the shrines, the ubiquitous security guard at the entrance nodded silently to Jounouchi, and then quietly distanced himself from the blond, far enough to give him privacy, but close enough to ensure that no one else would interfere.

"I'll just be a little while," Jounouchi mumbled. He was feeling rather chagrined for his earlier outburst-the fact of the matter was that he'd long ago grown tired of his fury and no longer wanted to be angry at Kaiba-but he didn't see a clear path to change. Besides, the bastard was as cold to him as ever, he thought stubbornly-rationalizing the vestiges of his rage-despite the veneer of civility. And Jounouchi couldn't help but imagine how smug Kaiba must be every time he came to visit Mokuba; seeing that his money and power had bought Shizuka a decent resting place beside his brother.

The brunet had spared no expense on the site, he'd had mature Japanese maples and tree peonies planted to evoke a timeless quality; it felt as if the garden had been created a half-century ago, rather than less than three years prior.

Fuck. It was far better than decent, it was a shrine befitting a princess, and everything that Shizuka deserved, but her family could never have afforded anything approaching it, at least not without the generous help of Kaiba himself.

Jounouchi laid out the items that he'd brought to decorate her area of the garden, the gaily-colored paper lanterns, cut flowers, and morsels of her favorite sweets. He noticed some business cards in an understated granite receptacle; among other old friends, both Yugi and Honda had dropped by earlier to pay their respects. He wondered if Kaiba had filled them in on his schedule so that they could avoid him. His breath caught for a moment, and then he forced himself to exhale slowly. Since that day, he hadn't been much of a friend to either man, and in fact, Yugi had bore some of the fallout of his irrational anger, yet Jounouchi knew that Yugi and Honda would always be there for him, they were just waiting for him to reach out. If only he could find the strength to do that. Instead, he felt stuck in neutral, unable to let go of the past, and equally as reluctant to embrace the future.

Jounouchi sat down on one of the benches and contemplated the small koi pond. Water trickled from a hidden spigot, drowning out the ambient sounds that happened to intrude. He slipped a flask from his jacket pocket and sipped some whiskey, finding the familiar warmth in his belly to be soothing.

Up until the day of the tragedy, he had had a secret crush on Kaiba. Jounouchi had spent most of his adolescence trying to prove his worth to the brunet-as a duelist, as a friend, as something more. He'd never had any illusions about his feelings being reciprocated, but Katsuya knew that people didn't choose whom they loved, it just happened. But Shizuka's sudden, violent death had shattered him to the core. She'd always told him that he was the strong one-she was nothing without her big brother there to support her-but his strength had been drawn from her unshakable belief in him, and in the aftermath of the tragedy, he'd focused all of his grief and anger on the one person who'd made him miserable time and time again; in his inconsolable state of grief, it hadn't mattered to the blond that the other had suffered just as great of a loss. Perhaps if Kaiba had responded at the morgue, Jounouchi would have punched him; probably gotten the shit kicked out of himself by the brunet, and then moved on. But Kaiba's uncharacteristic reticence, and later, his genuine charity, had only served to rankle Katsuya, and fan the flames of his newborn hatred.

But here he was three years later, exhausted from all the energy expended on fueling his rage and numbing his pain in a haze of alcohol. Only he'd learned the hard way that no amount of alcohol, short of drinking himself into oblivion, could ease the ache in his heart, and at that, it was only alleviated until he'd regained consciousness.

"I really messed things up, Shi-chan," he said softly. "You'd hate the man that I've become," he grimaced and took a long pull from the bottle. "I'm givin' th'old man a run for his money." He fingered the pendant around his neck, and then stood up unsteadily. "Mom hates me just as much as she does him-more, actually, if you can believe it. She still blames me for what happened. After all, I'm the one who introduced ya to the Kaiba brothers. If it hadn't been for me, you'd still be alive." He sobbed softly. Here, alone, he could let his tears fall unimpeded, and so he did, crying until his body could no longer muster enough fluid for tears to fall. And still he sat, quietly contemplating the shambles of his life, trying not to imagine the years that yawned in front of him. They were supposed to grow old, together; their long adult lives serving to wash away the childhoods and adolescence that they'd been forced to live separately. He'd been denied all that. After a while he began to set the lanterns along the path that lead to Shizuka's headstone, carefully lighting each one. Then he placed the bouquet in the urn, and finally he laid out the sweets, the last enticement to bring his sister to her resting place.

Jounouchi looked over at Mokuba's stately monument, a fresh wave of grief washing over him. He missed his young friend almost as much as his sister-hell, he missed all of his friends. "I miss you, Sis, I just wish everything could go back to the way it was, there's so much I'd do differently ... if I could only change it."

He thought about all the times that he'd come close to talking about his feelings towards the elder Kaiba, only to stifle them because he knew that we wasn't worthy of the other. But now in retrospect, he saw how frivolous, how meaningless all that was. Because, he thought morosely, perhaps if he'd been honest back then, he wouldn't be so alone in the world now. He glanced at his watch, it was nearing six pm, and he knew that he had to be on his way. "I hafta get going, but I'll come visit you soon, just like I always do." He kissed his fingertips and then touched the name carved on her headstone, his fingers lightly tracing the characters before he wiped the tears from his eyes. "Sleep well, Shi-chan," he whispered.

Fifteen minutes later, Kaiba Seto arrived to perform his own private ceremony. He saw that Jounouchi had come and gone, grimacing at the half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey that the blond had left behind on one of the stone benches. He felt a pit of anger deep in his stomach, lashing out against the other's weakness, and then the voice of Mokuba was chiding him, reminding him that it was not his place to judge the other man's handling of his suffering.

"But if he'd stop drinking, maybe ..." Kaiba left the statement unfinished. The only thing he could hope for if Jounouchi stopped drinking was that perhaps his life would be longer. The brunet had a sneaking suspicion that the other was drinking himself to death. No, it was more than conjecture-it was privileged information that he'd paid dearly for, he frowned.

He turned his attention back to his brother's monument, allowing the loneliness that he held at bay most of his waking hours to envelope him like a shroud. Soon his body shuddered with silent sobs.

"It should have been me," he whispered softly, tears that no one else had ever been witness to, rolling down his cheeks. "You were the one who was supposed to live a long and happy life. That's all I ever wanted."

Kaiba Seto had never planned on being a parent, but he had hoped someday to assume the role of a doting uncle. One would have thought from his own adoptive experience that he would have considered adoption for himself, but he'd always believed that Mokuba would be the one to beget heirs for the Kaiba fortune. Seto himself had never been attached to the Kaiba name, but it was the only one that Mokuba could recall, and even though he despised Gozaburo as much as Seto did, after their adoptive father's death, he had believed that by keeping the Kaiba name, he and Seto could rehabilitate it from its synonym to war-mongering status, and make it into something they would both be proud to bear. It was for that reason alone, that Seto had kept the Kaiba family name after Mokuba's death. It was the only tie he had left to his brother.

In the three years since Mokuba had died, Seto had often daydreamed a what-if scenario in which he imagined Mokuba and Shizuka had gone on to get married and have a family. These fantasies were hopelessly romantic. In each one, he imagined how the years of family get-togethers and celebrations would have brought he and Jounouchi Katsuya closer together.

"Fuck," he said under his breath. If he'd only been honest with himself all those years ago, instead of the utter jerk that he'd been, then ... then ... then, what? Did he really think he had a chance with the blond, when Jounouchi'd never been impressed with anything he'd ever done? It was hard to imagine that even if he'd been more civil back in high school that the blond would have given him a second look, anyway.

But there had never been anyone else who'd come close to capturing Kaiba Seto's heart, and though he'd taken on lovers (most of them very well paid companions who'd known better than to kiss and tell), whenever he thought about with whom he would have chosen to spend his life, he was bombarded with memories from his youth and images of one unruly-haired smart-mouthed blond.

He snorted softly as he laid out the lanterns. The Jounouchi who avoided him now had become a mere shadow of that rough around the edges teen. Was it even possible for him to still have feelings for the other, after all the years of being the brunt of Jounouchi's ire? Unfortunately Seto already had the answer to that. Perhaps it was simply because he knew that as sure as he lived and breathed, Jounouchi would forever be unattainable.

The sun was setting, and soon it would be time to head over to the river where the floating ceremony would be. There he would see Yugi and Anzu, and some of the others, though certainly not Jounouchi; he'd yet to take part in any of the ceremonies for the victims' families, as far as Kaiba could ascertain. No, the blond had been conspicuous in his absence through the years.

He carefully lit each meticulously placed lantern, and then laid out a veritable feast for his brother; all of Mokuba's favorite foods, festive sweet rice balls, exquisitely prepared hand rolls, and chocolate mousse pie; knowing that Jounouchi was long gone, Kaiba placed 2 table settings down.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get to know you better, Shizuka," he said, turning to her monument. "Shit, I'm sorry for a hell of a lot more than that. Your brother was good and decent, and I treated him worse than dirt." He let his head drop to his chest. "Yeah, I know, I wasn't kind to anyone back then, but I was particularly cruel to him. I know things would have been different, if only I'd told him-"

A soft footfall and the sound of keys jingling stopped Kaiba cold, and he whirled around, ready to pounce on whomever would dare to disturb his solitude. He was shocked to see Jounouchi standing there, bearing more than a passing resemblance to a deer that had been hypnotized by the headlights of a car.

That shock turned quickly to embarrassment when the brunet considered what the blond might have heard. "What the hell are you doing here?" Kaiba thundered.

Wordlessly, Jounouchi held up the keys to the bar. "I forgot ... these."

"And you took the opportunity to eavesdrop?" Kaiba hissed. The blond just stared at Seto wide-eyed, before shaking his head once, turning his back and racing down the hill.

"Fuck!" Kaiba cursed when he realized what he'd done. In the first time he'd been at close quarters and face to face with Jounouchi in years, he'd lashed out at him. He sat down on one of the stone benches heavily, supporting his head in his hands. Could he have handled that any more poorly? "Perhaps if I'd called him 'inu," Kaiba muttered.

He knew it had been a bad idea to double back to get the keys. But he'd had no other options; he had no cell phone, and he couldn't get into the bar to use the phone, and he couldn't go home to get his address book to call his boss. So Jounouchi had ridden all the way back to the cemetery, hoping that by the time he'd gotten there, Kaiba would have already come and gone. Fat chance there.

He hadn't meant to listen in. At first he'd stood there, wondering how he could get to the bench where he'd left the keys without the brunet seeing him. Long ago, when he'd been in the Rintama gang, he'd easily slipped in and out of places unnoticed, and he'd been well on his way to escape when he'd heard Kaiba speak Shizuka's name. Jounouchi's hands shook as he drove the key into the lock. A fine film of sweat covered his body, and his heart was beating crazily in his chest.

'He didn't mean what I think he did,' Jounouchi poured himself a shot to steady his trembling body. He shook his head, downed the amber elixir in one gulp, it couldn't be. He tried to concentrate on prepping the lemons and limes for the bar, but his mind kept drifting back to the words he'd interrupted. 'If only I'd told him.' The sentiment was the perfect match to his own uttered earlier in the day, and the synchronicity was both ironic and heartbreaking. They'd secreted feelings for each other, and now each stood at the edge of a bottomless canyon that stretched between them. He wondered beleagueredly if it was possible for them to find their way back to a place that never even existed.

He worked the bar expertly; it was a light night-most people were with their families, finishing out the final hours of the celebration. Tomorrow was the night to be working, a night when everyone was ready to cut loose after being cooped up with relatives for days on end. Normally, Jounouchi would welcome a slow night-they were few and far between-but the lack of clientele on this particular evening only served to draw the blond into himself and back to the scene he'd witnessed.

Several times he reached for the phone, thinking that he should call the other, each time he would walk away because he had no idea what to say, and he would pour himself another shot to ease his mind.

As the evening wore on though, Jounouchi, emboldened by the alcohol, decided that enough was enough. He should just call Kaiba and set things straight. He didn't know why he would have committed the brunet's cell to memory, but for some sick reason he had, and before he knew it, his fingers had pressed the ten-digit code. It was a split-second decision that he immediately regretted when he heard the telephone ring. Still he stuck it out, his spine tingling when he heard the other's voicemail, and instead of hanging up without leaving a message, he rasped, "Hey Kaiba ... I just wanted ta say ... I'm sorry. Fah everything. I didn't mean ta interrupt your private time ... an' I wasn't trying to listen in." He paused. Why was he doing this, what did he hope to accomplish? Did he think that he could just pick up his life from the suspended animation it was in, and move on? "I guess I'll see y'around," he added before hanging up the phone.

He'd gotten the message when he was at the ceremony. Yugi and Anzu had shown up, Honda in tow; Jounouchi was working until closing, and then Hiroto was heading over to the bar to see to it that the blond made it home safely. Kaiba didn't know what had caused him to glance at his cell, or what had made him check the messages for that matter. If he believed such things, he would have called it a premonition.

When he'd heard the other's voice, Kaiba had felt his heart in his throat. The content of the message registering far below the simple revelation that Jounouchi had reached out. As Katsuya's words sunk in, though, Seto believed that they harbingered more than a mere thaw in their relationship. He turned abruptly to his companions.

"That was Jounouchi. I'm going to go by the bar tonight." Yugi and Honda both stared at him, with identical stunned looks on their faces.

"H-he called you?" Yugi echoed, his eyes wide from the shock. Kaiba nodded curtly. He hadn't told them about the accidental meeting earlier; he'd been too embarrassed over his actions, too sure that he'd hammered another wedge into the chasm between them.

"You sure about this, man?" Honda asked, laying his hand on the brunet's shoulder. "He's not that stable when he's drunk, and I know he's gonna tie one on tonight."

"Yes," Kaiba said with more conviction than he felt, "It's time. I'll make sure he gets home alright."

"Call us if you need help," Anzu called after him, her brow knitted with worry.

As he walked to his waiting limo, Kaiba felt that he was shedding the weight that had been pressing down on him since Jounouchi had hurled those hate-filled words at him. He'd always maintained that it was Jounouchi's grief that had fueled his venomous rage, and Kaiba had long ago come to the realization that the blond had needed to focus the blame for Shizuka's death on someone, and because of the circumstances of their relationship, or rather because of the way in which he'd always treated the blond, he'd been the easiest target.

He gave his driver the address and pondered these things, his body pressed against the fine leather bench, his eyes pensively gazing out of the smoked window. He was nervous, and almost changed plans. But he knew that then Jounouchi would be alone, and he rationalized that he'd already made the commitment. There was no backing out now.

The limo pulled up to a storefront bar in the middle of a run-down strip of retail stores, the dim neon of beer and spirits signage that hung in a blank window, casting lurid rays of reds and purples onto the sidewalks. It didn't look too prosperous, but what did he expect. He knew that the blond had been just scraping by. He saw Jounouchi's bicycle locked to a nearby lamppost. He was amazed at how many details he knew of the blond's life, despite having been summarily exiled from it. Some of the information was gleaned in passing conversations with Yugi and Anzu, but the lion's share had been paid for; he'd hired a private investigator to keep tabs on Jounouchi.

He was definitely slumming it tonight, and completely overdressed to boot, Kaiba thought as he crossed the sidewalk and arrived at the entrance. He turned to Isono, pointing to the bike he instructed, "Hack the chain and put that in the trunk." He saw his faithful assistant's brow arch, but the man had long ago learned that it did not pay to question his employer's demands, no matter how outrageous or peculiar.

He slipped into the murky room, and stood uncertainly in the doorway while his eyes adjusted to the light. There were only a couple of patrons left, and Jounouchi was busy busing the forlorn tables in the middle of the room. His presence unnoticed, Kaiba allowed himself to gaze at the blond, who by that point had turned his back and was carting the grey rubber tub of empty glasses and bottles back behind the bar.

Kaiba took a position at the short end, closest to the door, and waited patiently for Jounouchi to finish. When the blond finally acknowledged him, the look of shock fading to a surly frown, Kaiba steeled himself for the worst.

But it never came. Instead, the blond laid a coaster in front of him and said gruffly, "Whaddya want?"

"Scotch, straight up."

Jounouchi stopped in his tracks. "You don't want any of this rotgut straight up."

"Then just pour me what you're drinking." Kaiba said, motioning with his head to the glass on Jounouchi's side of the bar.

He watched the blond fill a double old-fashioned with cracked ice, and then pour a liberal amount of whisky into it. He placed it on the coaster, and Kaiba removed some bills from his wallet, but Jounouchi put his hand up. "'S'okay, it's on me," he said, walking back to his drink. "Kanpai," he said humorlessly. Kaiba tipped his glass and took a draught. The fluid had a cheap alcohol burn, but it warmed his belly just the same as the expensive brand that he stocked in his own liquor cabinet.

Jounouchi poured himself another, and then called out last call to the few patrons that were left. Kaiba finished his drink and pushed it towards the blond. Jounouchi's eyebrow arched, "You ain't drivin', are ya?"

Kaiba smirked and shook his head. "It's as if you cared," he remarked as Jounouchi refilled his glass.

Their eyes met, and the blond drawled, "Liability, y'know." He left the bottle on the bar and collected the tabs from the other patrons.

Kaiba sipped the whisky slowly as Jounouchi went about the ritual of cleaning up the bar for the night-wiping down tables, upending the chairs up to clear the floor for washing. One by one the other patrons left, and Jounouchi locked the door and switched the sign to 'closed.' He turned on the overhead lights, and cursorily ran a damp mop over the worn floor. Kaiba wondered if the other was waiting for him to say something, but he didn't want to spoil the moment with words that could so easily turn into an argument.

Once he was done with the floor, Jounouchi took the tub of dirty barware into a room at the back and Kaiba heard the water running. After a few moments, he joined the blond, and picking up a dishtowel, he began to dry.

"What are you doing?" Jounouchi asked sourly.

Kaiba shrugged. "When you don't pay, you wash the dishes, ne?" He glanced over at Jounouchi, who'd folded his arms across his chest.

"No, I mean what are you doing, here."

"I ... I didn't ... " Kaiba squirmed, before changing tack. "You called me."

"Yeah, I don' know why I did that," Jounouchi confessed.

"Perhaps, because it was time?" Kaiba offered, continuing to dry. As he caught up with Jounouchi, the blond began to wash again. They continued in silence until all the glasses had been dried. Jounouchi rinsed the tub, dried it, and loaded them back, taking them to restock the bar.

Kaiba sat back down and nursed his drink, noticing that Jounouchi served himself two others in the interim. He was working on a wicked hangover.

"Are you going to drink yourself to death?" he asked finally.

Jounouchi whirled, his face a mask of anger. "What's it to you?" his lips curled.

"I think you figured that out back at the cemetery." A glass slipped from Jounouchi's hands, bouncing on the rubber fatigue mat that served as the flooring behind the bar. He bent to pick it up and Kaiba noted that his ass was as shapely as it had ever been.

When Jounouchi turned back to Kaiba, his eyes were red. "We were both idiots back then," he said, the words sounding choked. He poured himself another drink and topped Kaiba off.

Kaiba cocked his head. He'd come to settle things with Jounouchi, but he sensed there was a deeper meaning to the blond's words. "You weren't an idiot, you were just full of youthful bravado."

Jounouchi snorted. "Yeah, right. I thought I knew everything, but I didn't know shit." His words were slurry, and Kaiba could see he was unsteady on his feet.

"I think you need to get home," Kaiba said carefully. "I can give you a lift."

Jounouchi shook his head adamantly. "I'm not drunk enough yet," he mumbled, tipping his glass and then pouring another. "'Sides, Hon is coming by."

"I don't think so, I told him I'd see that you got home safe."

"Ya my babysitter f'thevening? I thought you'd 've had plenty of other things ta do."

Kaiba thought that a drunk Jounouchi would be all piss and vinegar, but the alcohol had a calming effect on the blond. Jounouchi sat down heavily next to him.

"This was important to me." Kaiba said finally. He put his hand on Jounouchi's neck, half expecting to be dodging a punch. He felt the breath leave the blond's body, and then Jounouchi inhaled deeply, fumbling for his pack of smokes.

"I wish I'd died instead of 'Zuki."

Kaiba's hand dropped away. "I know."

Jounouchi turned to him then, tears trickling down his face. "How did you make the pain go away?"

Kaiba pursed his lips. "It didn't go away," he shrugged.

The blond laid his forearms on the bar and dropped his head on them. "When I drink, I forget. But then I wake up, and it's just the same. I don't know how else to make it stop."

"You took a step today, Jounouchi. You reached out."

"I don' know why."

"Jounouchi, I'm sorry I snapped at you, before, at the cemetery."

"Ya got nuthin' t'apologize for. I've been the bastard," the blond mumbled. "I thought you hated me," he added.

"Maybe I did back then. I didn't know what to do with what I was feeling," he poured the last of the alcohol into his glass. He knew he'd had too much to drink; his tongue was loose. "I should have just said something back then." He put out the cigarette Jounouchi had lit and left untended in an ashtray.

"Things woulda been different if ya had," the blond agreed. He rolled his head and regarded Kaiba from that position.

"Oh, how so?"

"What do you think?"

Kaiba's eyes narrowed in concentration. "You ... felt the same."

Jounouchi snorted. "Yep, hopelessly in love wit da rich-boy. But tha's all water under the bridge now."

"I guess," Kaiba said.

"Ya don't feel that way now," Jounouchi said, rather than asked.

"I don't know. I do know that I'm glad that you don't seem to be angry at me anymore." He felt as if he was engaged in some ritual dance now, but he had no idea where it would lead; or who was leading whom.

"I can't move anymore." Jounouchi said finally. "Will you take me home now?"

He helped Jounouchi into the limousine, and then, taking the keys, he turned out all the lights and locked up the building, and then gave Isono Jounouchi's address. When he climbed into the back of the car, he was surprised to find the blond was awake, and sitting upright.

"Second wind?" he asked as he sat on the opposite bench. Jounouchi stared at him, his expression unreadable. He looked out the window, surprised when he felt Jounouchi's weight on the seat next to him.

"You could make the pain go 'way." Jounouchi's voice was husky in his ear, and sweet from the alcohol.

"I don't think that would be a good idea," he said, guessing what the blond was getting at, when a hand slid up his thigh. "We're both drunk."

"Ya think I'd hate you in the morning?"

"I think we'd both regret it."

Jounouchi laid his head on Kaiba's shoulder, and for a moment the brunet thought that his words had sunk in. That was until he felt lips tenderly pressing against his collarbone, and then a gentle suckling on his neck. He was too weak, too needy himself to put up any more of a fight.

He didn't remember arriving at the apartment, or how they even got inside. Did he open the door, or had Jounouchi impatiently wrested the keys from his grasp, and then roughly pushed him in, only to set upon him once again.

He did remember that there was more alcohol involved, and the massive headache that drummed between his ears attested to that. He rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. He should call Isono and leave, before things got ugly. But when he turned and gazed on Jounouchi's peacefully sleeping visage, he knew that he couldn't cut and run. He would wait until Jounouchi was awake. He brushed the bangs out of the blond's eyes and kissed him softly on the forehead, and he noticed that his lips felt bruised; their passionate kisses the night before had been fueled by a ravenous desire. He ran his forefinger along his lip, feeling a tender scab; there were a few drops of blood on the pillow. It had been as if they'd wanted to consume each other whole. He remembered then that they'd made love, at first violently, Jounouchi on all fours begging him, and he bent over the blond, forcing in his shaft balls deep, thrusting brutally into the impossibly tight heat. But then he'd pulled out and rolled Jounouchi over, to see his face when he finished him off before he reached his own completion. He would never forget how utterly stunning Jounouchi had looked, his lips parted and eyes glazed as he whispered 'Seto please' over and over again. Finally, both exhausted from the emotional upheaval of the day, they had fallen asleep in each other's arms.

It was the morning after now, and he was still naked, sticky with dried cum and lubricant. His muscles had a satisfying ache from getting a good workout. He slipped out of the bed, followed the trail of his clothes back into the living room and got dressed. The apartment was a mess, he bore witness to Jounouchi's binge and fit of anger. Having nothing better to do, Kaiba rummaged the medicine chest in the bathroom, swallowed three painkillers and set about cleaning up. When he'd finished about an hour later, the hangover was manageable and Jounouchi was still deep asleep. He was probably the type who slept right through hangovers, Kaiba thought, only to begin drinking anew.

He rifled through the small kitchen looking for items to make for breakfast, settling on bacon, eggs and toast. It was reasonably healthy. He noticed a note on the refrigerator-a doctor's appointment, Seto recognized the name as a top liver specialist-and he thought about the liver function tests he'd seen. At least Jounouchi was doing something about his health; that was something.

He tried not to dwell on what had transpired the prior evening, but it was near impossible not to. He'd been far too drunk to fully enjoy it, but he hadn't been numb either. Jounouchi had been so ... hungry. That would be the best way to think about it. When Kaiba had relented, and how could he not, he was only human, the blond had completely overwhelmed him, exploring his body with a voracious appetite. He was becoming aroused just thinking about the way Jounouchi had worked him over; his strong hands caressingly sliding across his torso, his agile tongue teasing the brunet to previously unknown heights.

Some bacon grease spattered across the back of his hand, bringing Seto back to the present. He heard a groan from the bedroom and smiled not completely sympathetically. The kettle whistled and he poured the boiling water into the teapot to brew the tea. He favored coffee, but he'd live. His cell phone vibrated in his pocket.

"Kaiba."

"Where are you?" Yugi's voice sounded strained. "You were supposed to meet us two hours ago." Shit. He'd completely forgotten about his hastily planned breakfast date with Yugi and Anzu. "You aren't home, we went by the penthouse," Yugi said, cutting off Kaiba's excuse.

"I'm at Jounouchi's," he said low into the mouthpiece.

"Is he okay?"

"He's sleeping. Listen, I'm sorry I forgot about breakfast, but I don't want to leave until he's up and about."

"He's okay, though."

"Yes."

"And you?"

"I'm surviving. I'm nursing a bitch of a hangover, but I'll live. I'll call you later." He hung up the phone and slipped it into his pocket.

"Hey."

Kaiba jumped, startled at Jounouchi's catlike quiet. He hadn't heard him rise from the bed, and yet there he was in the doorway. At least he'd put some pants on, but Kaiba felt his mouth go dry when he gazed on the blond's sculpted chest. Jounouchi's drinking hadn't yet affected his muscle tone, or his strength for that matter. Kaiba was surprised to see red marks blemishing Jounouchi's skin, and he blushed when he realized that the blond hadn't been the only one seeking to complete some basic animal instinct last night.

"How're you feeling?" Kaiba's eyes slid back to the frying pan.

"About what?" Jounouchi asked.

"How's your head?" He pointed to his own, and then he slipped the bacon out of the pan, wiped it down, poured in the eggs and swirled them to cover the bottom.

"Ah, it's been better. Nothin' a couple of aspirin can't fix." Jounouchi turned to the living room. "Fuck. I forgot to burn the money and incense last night." He shuffled through the portal, only to poke his head back in, "You cleaned my house?" He asked incredulously.

"I had nothing better to do. Come and eat, breakfast is ready." For a moment he thought Jounouchi would ignore him, but then he came into the kitchen and sat at the table.

Kaiba poured the tea and set a plate in front of Jounouchi, who unceremoniously began to eat. He stopped himself though, suddenly remembering his manners, and waited patiently for the brunet to sit down.

"Seto," he asked tentatively, just as the brunet took his first mouthful, "are you okay?"

There was a tender quality to the other's voice that he'd never heard before, and Kaiba was momentarily speechless, grateful that he had an excuse. Jounouchi put his fork down and glanced away.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I guess you were right. We shouldn-"

Seto placed his hand over Jounouchi's, "I don't regret last night." Then his brows knitted, "do you?"

"Not what I can remember," Jounouchi mumbled.

"What do you remember?" Kaiba asked urgently. He felt a cold chill run through his body, and a heavy weight on his chest. Had the blond blacked out, had he completely taken advantage of Jounouchi?

"I remember us together," Jounouchi said hurriedly, "though it's not as clear as I wished it was." He smiled shyly then.

"Yeah, it wasn't exactly how I pictured our first time to be." When he felt Jounouchi's hand pull away, he brushed the other's cheek with his hand. "That isn't to say ... that I didn't enjoy it."

Jounouchi shrugged. "So what now?"

"I don't know. That would be up to you. I already told you how I feel." When Jounouchi didn't reply, Seto began to eat. He planned to call Isono when he was done. He glanced up; Jounouchi's food remained uneaten.

"Not hungry? You need to eat something substantial. Your liver ..."

"What do you know about that?" Jounouchi asked defensively.

"I saw the pills in the medicine chest, you don't need to be a rocket scientist." It was only a partial lie, Kaiba reasoned to himself.

Jounouchi laughed cynically. "You'd think it was the alcohol that did it."

"I know it isn't helping," Kaiba replied.

The blond picked at his food, nibbling on a piece of toast. "It was her last gift to me." Jounouchi said finally.

"Shizuka?" Kaiba asked, puzzled.

"No, her mother. After Shi-chan died, she railed at me day and night for weeks, I thought she was deliberately trying to drive me nuts. It got so bad that I stopped eating and I was getting tremendous headaches. "I damaged my liver from too much Tylenol on an empty stomach," he snorted. "Ain't that a kick in the teeth?"

"But if you stopped drinking-"

"I can't stand the pain." Jounouchi looked up at him, his eyes rimmed with tears. "I need it to stop. It stopped last night, but not because of the alcohol."

"Sex?" Kaiba asked, his disbelief evident.

"No, you." Jounouchi smiled again, weakly. "And the sex wasn't so bad either. Kaiba, I don't want to be angry anymore, it hurts too much, and I can't stand being alone anymore."

"You were never alone, Jounouchi. Your friends have always been there to help you."

"I've been such a shit to them all, though. Especially Yugi, an' you."

Kaiba laughed, then. "You were rather amateurish, compared to the way that I treated all of you guys, especially you, back then, and you had more of an excuse than I ever did."

"Yeah, you were a dick, ne? And they forgave you."

"And you?"

"You didn't do anything to me. An' you lost just as much as me, if not more. At least I could crawl into a hole and disappear, you had to share your grief with th' entire fucking world."

"Yeah it sucked, and it still does," Kaiba agreed. "But if this is the final outcome," he clasped Jounouchi's hand, and squeezed it, "then I think I can live with it."

Jounouchi watched as the paper lantern he'd lit for Shizuka swirled and eddied in the current, bumping and jostling along in the stream. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned into the embrace. It had been a whirlwind year; one that had seen him become sober, take on some of Seto's philanthropic duties and, most recently, move in with him into his penthouse.

"Are you okay?" Kaiba asked him softly. Jounouchi turned to gaze at the lanterns, wrapping his lover's arms around him.

There were still days, far too many, where he missed Shizuka with the same intensity that he had felt the day he'd fully accepted that she was gone for good. But, they'd become interspersed with others where the pain was less intense. There had even been a few days when it had vanished altogether.

"Is it okay if everyone comes home with us for the rest of the ceremony?" Kaiba murmured in his ear.

Jounouchi nodded silently. Last year, after breakfast, he and Kaiba had performed the paper and incense burning in his living room, and then he'd gone with the brunet to his apartment, and they had repeated the ritual for Mokuba. Then, they'd made love again. This time, sober.

He looked over at Yugi and Anzu, who were holding hands, and he stole a glance down at her swelling belly. They'd already chosen names, even though they'd forgone finding out the sex. A girl would be named Shizuka; a boy, Mokuba. A little further on, Honda and Otogi stood, along with Bakura, who'd flown in from England.

It would be like old times, though there would always be two empty spaces in Katsuya's and Seto's hearts. But with the passing of time, he knew the love between them that grew stronger every day was enough to sustain him, and nurture him. He would do more than survive. He would live.

fin

Author's Notes:

Bon Festival/Obon: a Japanese Buddhist holiday to honor the departed spirits of one's ancestors. This Buddhist festival has evolved into a family reunion holiday during which people from the big cities return to their home towns and visit and clean their ancestors' graves, held from August 13th-15th.

Unkeh: the first day of Obon, the time when the family welcomes the spirits of relatives into the house where the altar has been prepared. Lanterns and candles are lit to lead the spirits home. Food, drink and other offerings are placed on the altar to welcome the spirits home.

Nakabi: the second day of Obon. The spirits who've come home are offered three meals, and relatives spend the day apologizing for not communicating with them for so long.

Ukui: the final day of Obon. After a feast, the spirits must go back to their graves.

Toro Nagashi: Japanese ceremony in which participants float paper lanterns (chochin) down a river. This is primarily done on the last evening of the Buddhist Obon festival as a way to guide the spirits of the departed back to the other world.


End file.
